


You and I alone.

by sunnysideup



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU basically but also faithful in parts to canon, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Awkward teenagers with awkward thoughts and all that, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Harry Louis and Niall, Mentions of Waliyha and Safaa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 04:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14252736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnysideup/pseuds/sunnysideup
Summary: When fourteen-year-old Zayn Malik finds himself sent to Wolverhampton all because of one mistake, he guesses things will change but he can't know it'll affect the whole direction of his life.It begins when the bus he's on brakes sharply and he finds himself sat next to Liam Payne.This is what happens next.





	You and I alone.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loammy_jean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loammy_jean/gifts).



> This story is based on Loammy Jean's gorgeous prompt: Zayn gets caught at a bonfire with his friends in possession of weed and alcohol, and his parents send him off to spend his senior year with his aunt in Wolverhampton. Being the quiet new kid, Zayn tries his hardest to just blend in. The bus is a crowded place, and if he's going to have to sit with someone, it had better be someone who won't bother him. Liam is the quiet kid down the street with headphones shitty enough that Zayn can hear every word of Neyo and Usher. Zayn spends a lot of time observing others; Liams pends a lot of time being bullied in the hallway. They bond over R&B and silence. Zayn doesn't even realize he's been thinking about the future until it's taken from him in the form of The X-Factor auditions. As it turns out, Zayn likes singing, too.
> 
> All your prompts were beautiful but this one jumped out at me and so here's my take and while it borrows somewhat from the story we think we know of real life, it's an AU and while it's got real echoes of the true story we know of in terms of journeys to when we knew them, it's still AU and so takes liberties. I really hope you like it. 
> 
> The title comes from 'Love was here' by Usher. 
> 
> The other songs mentioned are 'How do I say?' by Usher and 'Because of You' by Ne-Yo.
> 
> This fic begins in November 2007.

““ _It’s gone too far and if we’re not careful, he’ll end up ruining his education and you know it Trisha.”_

“ _And moving halfway down the country won’t risk that too?”_  


“ _Do you think I want to send him down there, do you think I want to send my only son away?”_

_The conversation, well actually more like a discussion carries on like that for too long and Zayn stares out the window of the car trying to focus on something better, trying to focus on anything except his parents sending him away._

“ _You don’t understand,” He says the words out loud even though he never intended to but his parents don’t stop their discussion, he’s got no way of knowing if they heard him._  


_There’s condensation on the window next to him, it’s freezing out and in the distance, he can see fireworks lighting up the sky, normal life is going on even though his life is changing._  


_Forever._  


_Zayn doesn’t know why he doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t know why instead of protesting like he normally would and pleading with them to change their minds and that they don’t know the full story._  


_And god even if they didn’t know, it was just a bit of weed, just a bit of cheap cider to keep everyone warm._  


_Instead, all he does is write with his finger ‘You don’t understand’ on the window before the car comes to a stop and he feels eyes on him and he hurriedly wipes away any trace of those words._  


_Maybe Wolverhampton won’t be so bad after all._  


_**_  


Wolverhampton is shit.

Wolverhampton is freezing cold and Wolverhampton is full of idiots who are too fond of throwing snowballs at complete strangers and cars.    


One glare from Zayn though and they haven’t touched him which is more than can be said for the group of girls standing a few feet away from him and underneath the bus stop sign.  


For a moment, Zayn considers telling the idiots to pack it in but he’s only been here a week and at school for two days and while so far it’s been pretty quiet, it’d be just his luck if the idiots are in one of his classes and he just hasn’t met them yet.  


So he keeps himself to himself, wishes he had either a pack of cigarettes and a lighter right now and his headphones to go with his phone but as if sending him down to the middle of the country wasn’t bad enough, his dad had confiscated his phone and the CDs he’d downloaded onto it.  


Smoking at the age of 14 probably isn’t one of his smartest moves but he only ever does it when he’s nervous or cold and he’s both right now.    


It’s probably for the best he doesn’t smoke though cause smoking would make him look like the rebel he’s been mistaken for, for too long.  


He stamps his feet in an effort to keep warm and as he puffs out a breath, a plume of cold air appears then immediately disappears in front of him.    


He notices the girls nudging each other just as the bus comes, they’re giggling and glancing towards him and there’s an urge Zayn always gets when people look at him, it’s the urge that makes him just want to fit in and have a quiet life.  


Especially somewhere new.  So he smiles except that makes him giggle more and maybe he’s got a load of toothpaste on the corner of his mouth or maybe he’s got some of the cottage pie stuck in his teeth still despite him brushing them this morning.  


Whatever it is, his plan to blend in isn’t working so he reverts to old Zayn and drops his head and as the bus doors open, he lets everyone else on first and then flashes the bus pass at the driver who doesn’t even look and then Zayn looks around him.  


The bottom deck of the bus is completely full, the girls have taken single seats but still close enough to each other to be giggling and peering at him so he turns away quickly and looks at the stairs to the top deck.  


He could stay down on the bottom deck even with the giggling girls, the journey isn’t  _that_ long after all.  


But something sends his feet moving up the stairs and he’s looking around him as he reaches the top step.  


It’s pretty full up here too, and noisy with your typical gang of ‘lads’ occupying the back row of the bus, and the next few rows are lads and girls not facing Zayn’s way,    


Zayn knows what their faces will be like, full of awe and admiration for the lads on the back row, hoping against hope that one day they’ll progress to the back row, be considered cool enough.  


Zayn was them once, and then it changed and  _he_  was someone on the back row and he wants to tell them it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be but that’s not keeping a low profile so he shakes himself and looks around for a spare seat.  


There are kids with bags on seats next to them who don’t make eye contact.

There are kids who do and their eye contact is full of warning, a ‘don’t you dare’ made with just their eyes.    


He’s almost given up when he spots a face that’s kind of familiar, and there’s nothing in the seat next to him, he’s halfway up on the right-hand side of the bus, shrunk into himself a bit, making himself smaller.  


He looks so unobtrusive if it weren’t for the bright red headphones that look more like ear muffs and the sound of music, not just any music but Usher that’s buzzing out of his headphones, he would be.  


Zayn nears the empty seat and gestures towards it.  


“Anyone sitting here?”    


He hates that question but Zayn’s nothing if not polite, but the lad appears to not hear and that’s hardly surprising.  


“He won’t hear you and even if he could mate, he wouldn’t say a fucking word, Payno is one weird fuck.”  


Zayn flicks his eyes towards the voice, it’s a lad with dark blond hair, lips curled in this look of practiced disdain, he decides he doesn’t like him but as he looks back towards Payno he realises the volume’s increased if that’s possible and Payno is pressed even closer to the window.  


Just as he’s about to point at the seat and sit down finally, the bus brakes hard and Zayn hears from downstairs.  


“Bloody kids, stop running in front of my fucking bus.”  


It almost makes Zayn fall over but he doesn’t and manages to catch himself so without any further glance at Payno, he sits down.    


It’s not that long a journey to school, about fifteen minutes but the last day or two it’s been interminable without having his own music.  


Thank goodness for Payno then and his shit headphones.    


Oh and his pretty damn good taste in music.  


_How do I say you're beautiful when I can't take my eyes off you?_  


_I don't wanna say the wrong thing, I wanna use the right words to impress you_

Memories come flooding back to Zayn, bittersweet but without even realising he starts tapping his fingers on his legs.  


Knows what song is coming up next and he risks a glance to his left.    


The lad’s frozen in place, looking straight ahead, posture so tense and Zayn’s right he’s seen him before.  


He only lives just around the corner from Zayn which begs the question why was he already on the bus, but Payno has not gone unnoticed by Zayn, he has a terrible haircut sure, but he’s about Zayn’s height, slim but not thin and he’s got good legs.  


His cheeks tend to go pink very easily, to blend in with those lips.  


Yeah okay, so Zayn hasn’t just ‘noticed’ Payno, he’s  _noticed_ him.  Hardly surprising given which way Zayn thinks he swings but also Zayn’s a keen observer of people.  


Observing rather than saying too much is a lot less risky all round really.    


Except now, because the music suddenly stops and Payno looks at him and it’s not a friendly look.  


He looks as though he’s just about to say something but then something stops him and he looks behind him, and shakes his head, muttering something Zayn can’t make out.  


Till he repeats it.  


“Excuse me.”  


His cheeks are flushed pink like always, but he looks agitated, looks upset and Zayn can’t quite figure out why.  


“PLEASE, EXCUSE ME.”  


Zayn’s about to move out the way but just then the bus stops, and Zayn hears loud voices from downstairs which rise in volume as they head up the stairs and if it’s possible for Payno’s cheeks to be even pinker, if it’s possible for his shoulders to tense up even more, it happens.  


And he drops his head and Zayn’s gaze flicks from Payno to the people who are on the upper deck now and have ‘bully’ written all over their faces with the sneers and the arrogance and the way several of the younger kids get out of their seats, heads down and walk downstairs without so much as a request and certainly not a thank you from whoever these people are, and then back again to Payno.  


Payno who’s mumbling to himself, and is he trembling?    


Zayn’s gaze returns to the lads who just got on, whose eyes are busily scanning the entire upper deck and for a moment, one of the lads’ eyes settles on Zayn and perhaps he’s used to other kids looking away when it happens but Zayn refuses to.

The other lad’s probably about the same age as Zayn though he’s trying desperately to look much older, there’s a tiny smattering of facial hair that looks more like he drew on his face and then one hand is shoved down his trousers while there’s a perma-scowl or a sneer on his face the whole time.  


He’s someone old Zayn would have feared, new Zayn just thinks this type’s a joke.  


The staring goes on too long until the lad shakes his head and fixes his gaze elsewhere and the next person he fixes it on does look away and the lad relaxes, his superiority restored.  


Zayn looks back to Payno who’s trying to take deep breaths, who’s actually stopped the music and who instead of having flushed pink cheeks, is white as a sheet and maybe he shouldn’t do it.  


Scratch that, he definitely shouldn’t do it, but he places his hand on top of Liam’s anyway and murmurs.  


“Just breathe through it mate, they’re not gonna look this way any time soon again I promise you.”  


To Zayn’s surprise, Payno doesn’t flinch, instead, he lifts his head a fraction and maybe it’s Zayn’s imagination but a little bit of colour comes back to his face and the corner of his mouth quirks upward just briefly and with his other hand, he turns the music back on.  


It’s only as they arrive at the school gates that Zayn takes his hand away from where it’s resting on top of Liam’s.  


As they get off the bus, Zayn doesn’t know what to expect, but Payno pushing past him and then almost sprinting towards the main school building isn’t that much of a surprise and Zayn shrugs to himself, just happy that Payno doesn’t look like he’s about to collapse with the panic attack he’d been having now.  


Zayn ambles slowly towards the school building when the first bell rings and quickens his pace a little bit, he needs not to draw attention to himself in a bad way with the teachers in this school if he’s ever going to get this phone back.    


As he walks through the doors, a hand grabs his arm and Zayn practically dies on the spot.  


“What the fuck man?”  


It’s Payno who purses his lips.  


“It’s rude to swear.”  


That bloke sat behind them on the bus was right.  Payno  _is_  weird.  


“Yeah, well, didn’t you get told it’s also rude to grab someone you don’t even know the name of.”  


“You’re Zayn from up North but now you’re around the corner, and I’m Liam from well, here, and anyway, thanks.”  


Liam from, well, here disappears before Zayn can say another word and he’s all kinds of confusing is Liam from around here but it strikes Zayn it’s not necessarily in a bad way but he’s gone now and as the second bell sounds, Zayn puts thoughts of him out of his head and walks towards the stairs that’ll take him up to the form room and registration.  


Zayn’s morning goes well.  


He has English and Art, two favourite subjects and he drifts off into a world of his own during art in particular but apparently not in a bad way, as the Art teacher nods approvingly at his doodles.  


A couple of other kids smile at him, one lad starts a conversation, his name’s Tom and Zayn’s not interested in making friends here, not really, he’s got the best friends of his life up in Bradford after all but he doesn’t ignore Tom and it makes the class go by even faster and that’s a good thing.  


Tom invites him to have dinner with him and his mates in the school canteen but Zayn politely declines and instead, he wanders over to the raised seating near the main entrance of the school.  


The raised seating that gives a perfect vantage point to watch the world go by.  This enclosed school world maybe but everyone’s so different down here and Zayn’s endlessly fascinated by people.  


Even if he doesn’t need to be surrounded by them as in them talking just to him or being part of a group every moment of every day, watching people will never get old for Zayn.  


The hierarchy of schools is always best illustrated at dinnertime and it’s sort of reassuring how it's no different here to Bradford.  


You get the sixth formers who stroll about in their jeans and the latest designer trainers or the Primark version of them in most cases or the girls with too much makeup, high heels and looking they’re going out on a Friday night not studying for A Levels, they’re the ones who are allowed to go out and get McDonalds and they’re the ones who legally can smoke when they’re on their way to and from McDonalds.  


They get followed around by girls, usually three or four years younger who either want to be the sixth form girls or want to date the sixth form boys now.  


The girls who follow them walk around with their socks rolled down like it’s the height of rebellion, and the lads who follow them round scam cigarettes off them and roll the sleeves up of their school blazers and school shirts and it makes them look younger, more childlike yet they’d never believe anyone if they were told that.  


Then there are the kids that sit a few rows down from where Zayn’s sat and they’re already doing the homework set for them for later. The kids that’ll do their utmost to get to uni, get the best grades and not bother anyone in the process.  


They’re the smart ones in many ways cause they’ll be the ones who can do whatever they want at night, probably more learning knowing how dedicated they are.    


There’s the ones like Tom and his mates, who are the ones that’ll get by at school, do enough to pass a few exams and go and work at the airplane factory, or work in call centres or whatever they do just to enable them to have a house and have a social life.    


They’ll do it all while having fun, making friends along the way and Zayn thinks maybe  _they’ve_  got the best ideas.  


There’s loads of other types, the music types, the acting types, the sporty ones, and Zayn can’t wait to observe them all as he looks around him and pulls the cheese sandwiches Aunt Mim had made for him from his bag.  


Oh and then there are the final two types.  


The ones who revel in kicking someone when they’re down, the ones like the lads on the bus and right here if Zayn cranes his neck to watch, who use plain old violence sometimes, a nudge here, a kick there or the sometimes just hurling insults and cruelty with words.    


The type to make the final type of kids cringe, collapse to their knees and curl in on themselves.    


Then there’s one actual final type actually, those same kids but with a little bit more as these kids remember they aren’t defeated that easily and they look up and say something and who knows if it wounds the dickheads who make every single day in school a misery for them.  


But Zayn bets that it does, because when those words are met with the violence that Liam just faced then surely that’s the only explanation.  


Zayn has to tell himself to stay in place, to not run and kick the ever living shit out of these pricks that laugh at Liam as he tries to raise himself up from where he’d been kicked sideways.    


Instead, he wills Liam to sit up, and when he’s left alone on the ground in the corridor, eventually he does, just as the bell sounds heralding that it’s almost the end of dinnertime.    


Slowly but surely Liam lifts himself up off the ground and picks up the bag, and Zayn thinks he wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his blazer.  He limps away and the only thing that stops Zayn from following him is the sound of the bell again that tells him it's time to get back to class.  


**

The afternoon is shit,  well boring more than shit.  


It shouldn’t be as Zayn loves history but the teacher has a voice that’s monotone and the post-dinner slump means all Zayn wants to do is fall asleep on the desk in front of him.    


Science after it isn’t much better especially as the bunsen burners in the classroom aren’t working so the teacher goes off to try and see whether she can find someone to help her to fix them.  


Leaving a bunch of bored teenagers who do nothing but cause havoc, and none of it looks like the type of havoc that’s fun, that’s anything like the stuff he’d do with Ant, Danny, and the boys.    


So he yawns, pulls out his exercise book from the English lesson this morning and pulls a pen from the front pocket of his bag and starts to write.  


Zayn loves writing.  


He half expects to get a smack on the head from the same kids from the bus and who’d kicked Liam and are in this lesson with him.  


Zayn can’t understand why they don’t, surely him giving that lad that look this morning wasn’t that scary?    


No one bothers him though, and it’s only the sound of the two kids on watch at the door who loudly whisper, “Teacher,” that makes everyone scramble to pretend like they’ve been sat there like angels the whole time, and Zayn stops writing and reluctantly puts away the book and the pen, that brings him back to the real present.  


The bunsen burners still won’t work and so instead, the teacher tells them what they would have done with them and it’s all a bit pointless and Zayn clock watches till mercifully it’s time to go home.    


The weather’s a bit better so for about ten seconds Zayn thinks about walking home but then Liam crosses his mind and so he gets on the bus and goes up on the top deck that’s just as full and the same lad with the sneer as before is sat in the same place but there’s no sign of Liam around so Zayn asks the kid who’s sat in the seats in front to move his bag and the kids rolls his eyes but does.    


Five minutes later the bus starts up and twenty minutes later, Zayn’s off the bus and walking through the front door of his aunt’s house.  


**  


Zayn has to run for the bus the next day. Zayn doesn’t do running, nor does he do breathless or anything uncool like that.

At least the snow’s largely melted away so he doesn’t have to worry about falling over and breaking his neck along the way.    


Actually he does plenty of uncool stuff, like read comics and draw cartoons, he writes stories sometimes, once or twice he’s tried writing poetry and for the past couple of years he writes songs he bins within seconds of writing them, and he also thinks of shy lads with shit headphones for too long which had resulted in him staying awake till 2am and then finally sleeping.  


Hence why he’s late.  


He arrives at the bus stop just in time, and says a little thank you to the sky for the fact that the giggling girls are already on the bus, he’s last on and doubtful he’ll get a seat but as he steps onto the upper deck and looks around, he’s surprised when he hears his name called.  


“Come on lads, move up, you can sit here Zayn.”  


It’s Tom who’s sat on the back row and Zayn’s faintly surprised cause okay, he’d been friendly enough but not friendly enough surely to warrant Tom making his mates move up for him.  


On the back row no less.  


There’s a war going on inside Zayn’s brain for a moment between a ‘you’re too cool for mates down here’ kind of thing and this feeling of ‘wow, someone likes you enough to be a mate already’ and this rarely acknowledged part of Zayn that’s insecure and wants to be liked.  


And it’s no surprise that the latter part wins and he takes a step towards where Tom and his mates are when a movement in the corner of his eye to his right distracts him.  


He stops dead.  


Sees Liam place the bag he’d lifted up back onto the seat and rub at his eyes and with a quick glance towards Tom who’s looking a bit confused, he lifts up his hand in acknowledgment and silent apology but doesn’t wait for a response and instead gestures toward the seat.  


Liam looks surprised, his cheeks turn cherry red and in his haste to pick up his bag, he ends up knocking it towards Zayn who catches it before it can fall to the floor and then just for a second as Zayn hands it back, he smiles. Liam smiles.  


And Zayn’s mind is made up then.  


It’s his mission, it’s why he’s here.  To make Liam smile, oh and get good marks in school and behave well enough he can get home as soon as possible of course.  


Easier said than done maybe when Zayn sits down and Liam stares out the window, hands clutching his bag and Zayn’s left sending occasional glances his way, willing him to look his way so he can try and start up an awkward conversation.  


Instead, though he’s left with just the sound of the music.  


_I got a problem, and I (don't know what to do about it), Even if I did, I don't know if I would quit_  


_But I doubt it; I'm taken by the thought of it_

And yeah, even as he bobs his head and gets caught up in the music and drums his fingers on his own legs, Ne-Yo mate, he feels like he knows the feeling.  


Only too well.  


Just like yesterday, Liam's in a hurry once they get off the bus and how’s Zayn ever going to talk to him?  


A hand slaps on his shoulder. The lad with dark blond hair is next to him.    


“He’s a tough one to crack is Payno, and yeah he’s a weirdo but you’re the first one he’s allowed to sit next to him two days in a row without looking like a rabbit in headlights so maybe keep trying, he needs it.”  


And then the lad’s gone without a single glance backward leaving Zayn there on his own as the crowds of kids thins out and the bell rings and Zayn says to the air.  


“Okay, then I will.”  


The first part of the morning is long and tedious, Maths which Zayn doesn’t mind but it’s clear that over half the class do and so they cause trouble and make the teacher who looks barely any older than some of the taller kids in this class look like he wants to run away from school and never come back.  


And then computer science where it gets better though nothing to do with learning about the science of computers at all as it just seems to be a bored supply teacher with no skills in computers and a load of kids trying to break the school firewall to go on Facebook till they get bored and watch videos by Slipknot or makeup tutorials on Youtube.  


Zayn?  


He reaches for the exercise book in his bag and writes till he gets bored of that and doodles instead.  


At lunchtime, he misses his mates back home, particularly when he passes Tom and his mates outside as they huddle together in the cold and they acknowledge him but make no attempt to invite him over.    


He finds himself back inside on the raised seating and looks over to where he’d seen Liam and the bullies yesterday but there’s no sign today so Zayn just reaches into his bag and pulls out the box of sandwiches and his notepad and pen but words don’t come easily to him so instead he just tries not to let the thoughts of missing home overwhelm him too much.  


The final lesson of the day is Drama and English and Art and Music if a school does it are his faves but Drama is cool.    


Or should be but the dark blond lad, whose name is Andy,  thinks he’s Robert fucking De Niro when he’s more like Tom dickhead Cruise who Zayn hates and he monopolises the whole lesson along with a couple of girls who overact more than a whole cast of soap actresses put together.  


Zayn grits his teeth and manages to last for all but the last five minutes of the lesson when he puts his hand up and is allowed to go the loo.    


He’s never been more tempted to have a cigarette than now.    


Instead, he worries at the bit of loose material on the zip of his jacket and turns the corner away from the main corridor and stops dead at the sight in front of him before instinct makes him step back and away from view.  


It doesn’t stop him peering around the corner though.  


There’s a row of coat hooks along the wall, and Zayn winces as Liam’s pushed against one and lets out a small gasp.  


“I don’t know why you bother coming here anymore Payno, you’re too thick, too stupid, too weedy and can’t even win the races the school puts you in for, you’re a loser and no one likes you.”  


One of the other lads cuts in.  


“He thinks that new kid likes him.”  


There’s a roar of laughter from all of the bullies then.  


And well, all of them?  In fact, it’s just two main lads, one of them the one Zayn had the staring competition with yesterday and then their hangers-on and even then there’s only five of them.  


Zayn could take them.  


Maybe that’s too optimistic but he wouldn’t mind having a go or at least try to get some fight out of Liam.  


Like yesterday though look where that got Liam.  


The bell rings at that point and suddenly, doors are flung open and there are kids everywhere as they walk or in some cases run to leave school and get told off for running by teachers for it.  


But Zayn can’t take his eyes away from Liam.  


Even as kids rush past, it’s like Liam and his tormentors are frozen in time and Zayn right there with them.  


Till something breaks the moment and Liam’s pulled away by one of them and then slammed harder into the coat hooks and he lets out a louder cry this time that even amongst the noise, Zayn can hear.  


But all he’s met with is laughter as the bullies walk away, and other kids who are probably just grateful it’s not them and avert their eyes away from how Liam slumps downwards and shivers.

Zayn can’t do that though and he takes a step away from his hiding place and towards Liam.  


Till Liam looks up at that moment and meets his eyes, and Zayn hopes what he’s saying with his own eyes is enough but then Liam shakes his head, sniffs loud enough that Zayn can hear as the number of people around them thins out and lifts up his bag while rubbing at his neck and shoulder and walks away.  


It’s gonna be way harder than Zayn thought.    


**  


Liam’s all kinds of confusing though.  


The next morning, then the next and then the morning after that. Friday, Liam lifts his bag up for Zayn to sit next to him and it’s not just Zayn’s imagination that Liam’s posture gets more relaxed each day.  


But when they get to school, Zayn only sees him when he’s being harangued by Collins and Renshaw, the bullies’ surnames cause Zayn’s fucked if he’ll ever dignify them by knowing them in any other way and their pathetic disciples.    


On Friday, Zayn notices for the first time how Liam clenches his fists when they’re fucking with him and Zayn actually counts to ten at one point as Liam says nothing when they’re in the middle of one particularly rough bullying session but then shoves past them.  


They let him go.  


It fills Zayn with some kind of hope.  


Zayn never sees Liam on the bus home, and he’s not sure if he gets a lift, or walks home or what and he tries to get over the idea that he’ll miss him over the weekend.  


A weekend that promises to be filled with well...boredom.  


No chance of getting home to see friends or his family so soon after he got sent down here, and maybe if he’d sat with Tom and that lot he’d have stuff to do but he doesn’t regret it.  


He falls into a routine of homework then writing then throwing the writing away before retrieving it and then doodling till he gets bored of that.  


Still no regrets.  


Even as bored as he is and even as Aunty Mim and Uncle Nick drag him to the social club with them on Saturday night.  


The social club has one long bar on one side of the main room and then about fifteen tables with four chairs around each table and then alongside the other side is a long settee, split into sections where again three or four people can sit and then at one end of the room is a small raised area with some speakers and amps and a couple of microphones.  


There’s a stale old smell of cigarettes even though cigarettes were banned in public places years ago, it’ll the carpet that looks like it’s been there for as long as the social club’s been open.  


ayn wants to shrivel up and die as he’s been to one of these places before up north with his grandad for a karaoke night.  


He just wishes his parents hadn’t confiscated his earphones as well as his phone itself.  


The club’s about half full tonight and Zayn’s just finishing off a glass of lemonade when a man steps onto the small stage area.  


He’s got a stocky build, a beard, and a plump nose, his face is the picture of concentration as he finishes setting up and tests the microphone and has a conversation with the guy who seems to run the club.  


Zayn doesn’t hold out much hope for much talent here but well, at least it’ll be something to listen to and maybe there’ll be a song or two he’s heard of.    


Doesn’t mean that he’d not rather be anywhere else but here though, and just as Uncle Nick heads to the bar and Zayn asks for a ginger ale, he excuses himself to head to the toilet.  


The toilets are just off the main room near the entrance where even at this time of year, the doors are wide open and Zayn shivers.  


Zayn can hear the sound from the main room though it’s muffled and he hears the act for tonight being announced.  


Or rather mishears because he’s sure he heard a familiar name.  


He hears talking though again it’s muffled and then there’s a bit of instrumental and a voice,  


It doesn’t sound like an older man’s voice, and Zayn’s opening the toilet door, washing his hands and walking out the toilets and towards the main room and peering around the door before he can stop himself.  


This doesn’t feel like the spying in that school corridor though because he  _did_  hear right.  


But this time instead of a cowering boy, there’s a confident smiling teenager smiling towards his audience as he sings ‘Let there be love’.  


Even though most of them aren’t even paying attention though the older guy?  He’s sat behind smiling and looking proud and no wonder.  


Zayn doesn’t move away from his place at the door, just watches fascinated and he’s not aware of Aunt Mim and Uncle Nick spotting him until Uncle Nick’s booming voice startles him and he’s there in front of him though he shouts like he’s in Timbuctoo and Zayn’s stuck in Antarctica.  


“Ah there you are kiddo, here’s your ginger ale, now drink up quick, Mim wants to get home and watch Casualty before bed.”  


Zayn opens his mouth to argue but then he stops short as Liam’s looking over and just like that, the uncertainty is back on his face and he’s in the middle of introducing his next song but stops and blushes and Zayn wants to crawl back into his hiding spot.  


ut then the older guy stands up and places a hand on Liam’s shoulder and Liam turns his attention to what the man’s saying and Zayn can lip read sometimes and he can see that Liam’s telling the guy he’s fine.  


And he is, that is if he doesn’t look at Zayn and he announces ‘What a wonderful world’ and Liam’s a 14-year-old boy singing songs like this and making them sound like he was born to sing them and Zayn’s not sure why he’s proud but he is.  


Then it’s time for Zayn to go and Liam’s in the middle of what’s “Me final song for you tonight folks and it’s a big favourite of mine,” and Zayn expects him to start singing Usher but instead, it’s New York, New York and Zayn can’t help the way he rolls his eyes but then as his Aunt Mim tugs on his hand and Liam looks so disappointed even though he’d been avoiding Zayn’s gaze since he’d stopped short before but carries on singing, Zayn lifts his thumb up and yeah, Liam blushes again but this time he smiles.  


It carries Zayn through the whole of the most boring Sunday on record to be honest.  


**  


There’s no snow but Zayn’s freezing cold waiting at the bus stop come Monday then again it is 3rd December now.    


The giggling girls take no notice of him now instead, they crowd around one of the girls' phones and giggle instead at whatever or whoever their attention is fixed on there.  


The other boys huddle in their groups and it just leaves Zayn, on his own, watching and observing and he’s glad but there’s also the fact that he’s left with his thoughts.    


Of how to handle Liam, and whether to even bring up the topic of Saturday.    


Or whether Liam will even be on the bus or whether he’ll act like Zayn doesn’t exist and that thoughts bothers Zayn too much.    


The bus comes just as he’s thinking that and he almost decides not to get on it but then he’s not too gently shoved towards it by one of the lads, albeit accidentally, and so he gets on.  


For a moment, he thinks about chickening out and staying on the bottom deck but his feet betray him and soon enough he’s sitting down next to Liam who’s opening his bag and pulling something out and then he zips up the bag and hands something to Zayn.  


A pair of earphones.    


“I’m sorry they’re not the best ones but I don’t get that much money when I do social clubs and most of my money went on the thing where we could plug two sets in any way, oh and petrol for Dad’s car.”  


He holds up his phone to demonstrate and Zayn can’t help the way he raises his eyebrows at the sight of the jack plugged into the phone but then Liam’s tutting him at him and takes the earphones from where they’re hanging loosely from Zayn’s fingers and plugs them into one of the holes while he does the same with his own headphones.  


“There,” he smiles.  


Zayn probably resembles a Goldfish right now, surprised at everything, at how Liam’s said more today than he’s ever said to Zayn before and with this act of, well there’s no other word for it, kindness.  


“Why Liam?”  


“'Simple really, Fed up with you making me look like a weirdo bouncing your knees along to my tinny shit headphones so figured I'd let you listen properly.”  


“Cheeky twat,” Zayn’s grinning as he says it though.  


“Yeah well, anyway, would Sir like Usher, or Ne-Yo today?”  Liam’s got this look almost similar to how he was on Saturday night and Zayn decides he likes it.  


Loves it.  


“Surprise me, Liam,” he replies.  


But doesn’t add, “Just not much more than you already have mate, I don’t think I can take it.”  


The morning whizzes by and soon Zayn’s back in his familiar spot, notepad out and pencils at the ready.  


“Mind if I join you?”  


Zayn looks up and Liam’s a couple of feet away, cheeks rosy red and chewing on his bottom lip as if he expects Zayn to tell him to fuck off.  


Zayn’s lifting up his notepad and chucking it into his bag and patting the space next to him before Liam can even blink though.  


Liam breathes an audible sigh of relief and sits next to Zayn, placing his bag gently on the floor.  


They sit in silence for a few moments.  


“I’m guessing I owe you an explanation,” Liam says quietly.  


“You don’t owe me anything mate.”  


“I feel like I do though cause you’ve seen me on the bus, you’ve seen me when, you know here happens, and then you see me in the club.”  


“Gotta say mate, it did surprise me,” Zayn admits then cause he means it, he adds, “You were good though, like really good even though the music was more me mum’s cuppa tea or even me nan.”  


“I somehow don’t think they’d be all that familiar with Ne-Yo and Usher and you have to cater for your audience and what they’ll enjoy most even if most of the time they don’t even pay attention and I’m just background noise.”  


“You sound like some thirty year old who’s also world-weary and been doing this for years, not a fourteen-year-old.”  


Liam shrugs, “Well, not years but a couple of years at least though only social clubs or proper paying venues for the last almost a year, me dad’s idea.”  


“That the fella who was sat behind you?”  


“Yeah, god he believes in me so much Zayn, he makes me forget what I’m scared of and then fills me with thoughts of what he thinks I could do and that makes me scared too.”  


“You spend a lot of your life scared don’t you?”  


Zayn regrets his words as soon as they’re out of this mouth and holds his hand up.  


“Sorry, that’s out of order.”  


Liam’s making a habit of surprising Zayn.  


“No, it’s not, I do and I am,” he says it simply and then, “I shouldn’t be though and I’m working on it but I’m scared too of what happens when I put that fear behind me.”  


Liam shakes his head.  


“That probably doesn’t make sense right?”  


Zayn smiles.  


“Oh but it does Liam, it really does.”  


Liam nods, a relieved smile coming from him.  


“So anyway, less about me, what about you?  The mysterious Zayn, what’s your story, what scares you?”  


Zayn doesn’t like talking about himself and he’s about to fudge the questions when the bell sounds and he wants to do a somersault with joy.  


Except he’d break his neck, and he could avoid the subject but something about Liam makes Zayn want to talk about himself.  


“Ah well, that’s for another day or maybe, we can talk some more on the bus home.”  


Liam’s standing up and holding out his hand to pull Zayn up.  


“Nah mate, I don’t get the bus home except maybe once a week, I run home, big runner me and it helps me a bit you know?”  


Zayn accepts Liam’s hand and then as Liam lets go he leans down and picks up his bag, pulls the zip up to close it and they walk down the steps together reaching the bottom step when Liam stops.  


“You’re more than welcome to run home with me if you like.”  


Zayn snorts but then erupts into full-on laughter.  


“Bloody hell Payno, you didn’t tell me you were a comedian too.”    


The bell sounds again, and Zayn smiles at a confused looking Liam before patting his shoulder and saying gently, “Just kidding,” before he walks away calling out.  


“See you in the morning mate.”  


**  


They settle into a routine over the following days.    


They listen to Usher and Ne-Yo, the same albums over and over and Liam no longer stares out the window when Zayn’s on the bus next to him.  


At dinnertime, they sometimes sit in silence and it’s amazing how comfortable it is although ometimes they sit in silence because Liam’s had a hard time in class or because of Collins and co.

Sometimes Zayn’s stuck in this fog of how unfair his life feels, how much he knows he’s missing out on at home and how despite the fact that Liam’s becoming someone pretty important, he isn’t Zayn’s childhood, he isn’t all the memories Zayn has and it’s one thing spending time with Liam, it’s a whole other thing letting Liam see the Zayn that Ant and Danny know.  


He thinks though, despite his best efforts, he reveals more about himself to Liam each day.  


Even without words.  


Other times, Liam doesn’t shut up about Christmas especially as he and his family are off to Florida, about a gig he did or about how when he’s running he feels like he’s capable of anything.    


They talk and plan a time when they can go and watch Usher together, of when Zayn’s earning a bit of money too maybe one day and they can go to HMV and buy all the CDs they can fit in one shopping basket.  


Zayn talks about old RnB, talks about how his mum loves Michael Jackson and sometimes he catches his mum and dad in the kitchen or the lounge dancing to Michael Jackson or to Prince, how his Aunties used to force him to watch old Bollywood stuff till one day he decided he liked it enough to ask to watch films instead.  


They share a love of superheroes.  Liam declares giddily one day that, “I’m Batman,” and somewhere in Zayn’s head an idea forms and maybe it turns out that Zayn agrees.  


Too quickly, it’s the last day of school before Christmas and they’ve had their last lesson not that anything today could have been called a lesson really. they’re sat on the steps together watching as the kids all rush out the main entrance.  


“I bet you’re excited to be going home right?” Liam nudges his knee against Zayn’s, “To your family and to Ant and Danny and all them?”  


Zayn casts a glance at Liam, sees how he’s smiling so wide and almost as though as he’s more excited about it than Zayn.  


Which would almost be true.    


Except.

Well, that’s silly Zayn, there is no ‘except, it’s simple, he just likes Liam and Liam’s made this place bearable that’s all.    


It just so happens that Zayn wanted to show his appreciation, nothing more to it than that and he’s debated over whether to actually give it to Liam, wondering if he gave it that it’d be some line he’s crossing.  


Before he can stop himself though, he reaches into the bag and pulls out the paper that’s rolled up and held in place with an elastic band and hands it to Liam.  


“Merry Christmas Leeyum.”  


Liam blinks with surprise and lets out a choked kind of noise before he manages to get out, “For me?”  


“Yeah, like it’s nothing really and all my colouring stuff is at home and so it’s just pencil and I’m still learning so it’s well shit.”  


Liam’s taking off the elastic band unfurling the piece of paper as Zayn carries on talking and then breathes out, “Zayn?”  


“You’re right Li, you’re Batman and well it’s official now.”  


If no other Christmas or Birthday present he ever gives anyone has this effect, Zayn doesn’t think he’ll mind.    


Liam says nothing, runs shaky fingers over the drawing and the words above it in graffiti style that say ‘Liam IS Batman’ and then giggles at the sight of Zayn’s signature.  


“I just can’t believe you did this for me, that anyone could ever do this for me.”  


“Well, then it’s up to me to carry on producing more of these till you believe it eh?”  


Liam doesn’t let go of the drawing but turns to face Zayn.  


“Can I hug you just to say thank you?”  


Zayn’s about to say, “Course you can,” but before he can Liam’s arms are enveloping him and it makes Zayn feel funny.  


Good funny though.  


Liam’s arms are gone from where they fit so well too soon and then he’s saying something about, “Oh god I almost forgot mum’d kill me,” and then he’s reaching into his own bag and pulls out a carrier bag and hands it to Zayn.  


“It’s really crap compared to what you’ve given me but well, I couldn’t afford all the comic books cause pocket money’s dried up cause of Florida and all my money from gigs has gone on petrol lately but there’s a library in Birmingham that has loads and well mum borrowed one of my auntie’s library cards so you’d better not lose them or else but I made mum a list and well, merry Christmas Zaynie.”  


Zayn opens the bag and reaches in and pulls out not just one, not just two but six comic books.    


A couple of X men books and then Batman, but not just any Batman because amongst them is one Zayn’s always wanted to read but never dreamt he would till he was old enough to have a job and by then, he wonders if he’ll have grown out of it all.  


“The Darkest Knight?  Liam? That’s Green Lantern, how did you?”  


“It was the first thing you mentioned when we first talked about superheroes remember, how much you like Green Lantern so yeah and well we was just lucky that’s all, I thought none of them would be available and yet they were, anyway, do you reckon they’ll stop you being too bored or help if you can’t sleep at all you know?”  


Zayn opens his mouth to say a lot more than what comes out but it’ll have to do.  


“It will, I reckon it will Liam, thank you.”  


Zayn’s not sure he can believe how well Liam knows him, and how he feels like Liam knows him better than some even though Zayn’s shared hardly anything that Ant or Danny know of him or anyone.  


And he’s only known him a month, actually not even a month yet.    


Someone coughs and they both look away from each other and towards the noise, it’s the Deputy Head.  


“Normally, we have to fight to stop kids leaving the school before we let them go and then there’s you two who look like you’d happily stay there all over Christmas, but bad news lads, so hop it so I can get out of here alright?”  


Liam and Zayn share a glance and then chorus a, “Yes sir,” and five minutes later they’re walking out the school gates.  


“Gonna run home today Li?”    


Liam shakes his head.  


“Me trainers are in the wash cause mum said if she didn’t put them in there they could walk across the ocean on their own accord so I thought I’d get the bus with you if there are any still running and besides, not ready to say ta-ra to you yet.”  


Liam says it with a confidence that’s been unfamiliar before and Zayn likes it.    


There are still buses and they spend thirty more minutes in each other’s company before they’re off the bus and Zayn’s waving and Liam is too till they’re out of sight of each other.  


Zayn misses him already.  


**  


The school holidays are okay.  

No, they’re great really, and he loves being back amongst his family and friends and his dad seems pleased with what Aunt Mim has told them about him.  


The incident isn’t mentioned again in his house and Ant and Danny had been grounded for two weeks after as well and even a sneaky cigarette feels like too much after the first couple of puffs each so maybe it’s behind them and they’re growing up already.

Things are good enough that his dad talks about staying home and good enough that his phone’s given back to him but the night before he heads home, he just packs his colouring pens and pencils and instead shoves the phone in a drawer.  


He’s sat on his bed, waiting for tea and re-reading Darkest Knight for the umpteenth time when Doniya opens and shuts his bedroom door behind her and stands against it so Zayn can’t escape.  


“So little bro, you gonna tell me more about the boy with the library books?”  


Zayn flushes even as he rolls his eyes and says, “He’s just a mate Doni.”  


“Mate or mate mate.”  


“Sod off and leave me alone.”  


“Aww I think it’s cute though, my little bro’s got his first crush,” Doni moves away from the door and squeezes Zayn’s cheeks and then dodges his hands as he goes to slap her.  


“He’s not me first crush anyway.”  


He clamps his own hands over his mouth in a futile exercise cause it’s too late to turn back time and reverse the words.  


“Aha, I knew it.”  


Doniya’s smug smile though is replaced almost immediately as sits on the edge of his bed and gives her brother a sympathetic smile.  


“Always thought you weren’t into girls you know or I dunno maybe you like ‘em too not that it matters either way, but it’s okay to have a crush and it’s okay to admit it and especially to me, your big sis especially as I know mum would have a field day over it all if you told her.”  


“Is there any chance you can shut up about this and not blab it to anyone maybe?”    


“What’s it wo-,” Doniya stops herself and then just simply says, “Course I can and course I won’t, just between us eh, now are you gonna come downstairs and have your early birthday tea or stay up here all night?”  


“And miss mum’s curry you dope?  Not on your life.”  


An hour later and they’re just finishing dessert when Trisha shakes her head at Zayn.  


My baby is almost fifteen though, I can’t believe it, how did that happen?”  


“You gave birth to him almost fifteen years ago that’s how love,” Yaser teases and avoids her poking his side by standing up and reaching into his the pocket of his jeans.  


“This was your mum’s idea cause I didn’t want to give you money that you’d spend on something daft and we know how much you love your music so happy birthday Zayn.”  


Zayn tears open the envelope and pulls out the voucher.  


“Thirty quid?  Woah, thanks mum, thanks dad.”  


Zayn gets off his chair and embraces his mum and his dad.  


“We know you don’t have a CD player in your room down there but I know Aunt Mim loves all kinds of music so she won’t mind you playing your records.”  


“Well, that was before Zayn plays his music, I don’t think she’ll like all that business,”  Doniya pipes up.  


Zayn sits back down just so he can kick his sister’s leg and then when Waliyha starts to giggle, he throws a glare at her.  


“Behave yourself, Doni, stop stirring.”  


“I wasn’t Mum, tell her Dad.”  


Yaser doesn’t say a word in response to Doniya but instead fixes Zayn with a stare.  


“Oh listen, we know that you’ve all heard worse down the playground than on some of these albums you kids buy but just don’t buy anything that sends Aunt Mim’s hair even curlier eh son?”  


Zayn doesn’t miss the way his dad winks and that’s when he knows that his dad’s forgiven him and there’s a part that wonders about staying.    


There’s a bigger part of him that doesn’t even entertain the idea.  


Funny how times change.  


**  


Zayn lied about how he doesn’t run for buses, except running isn’t really the answer, he practically skips instead to the bus on the first day of term.  

He’s oblivious to everyone around him, there could be a million giggling girls and he wouldn’t care or notice.  


And he makes sure he’s first on the bus and running up the stairs to the upper deck where Liam catches his eye and waves him over.  


“Hiya Zayn.”  


Zayn pats Liam’s thigh as he sits down and they grin at each other before they say at the same time.  


“How was your holiday?”  


They both laugh.    


“You first Li, you’re the one who went all exotic.”    


And it looks like he did too, Liam’s skin is a golden colour and there are freckles dotted around his nose and cheeks and the pinkness of his lips is more noticeable than usual.  


Zayn is head over heels crushing on Liam Payne.  


“It was amazing, I went on all the rides so many times but we made sure not to go to Seaworld after what you said about it being cruel and so we just spend an extra day in Epcot and it was just great, I missed you though.”  


There’s something so sincere, so lacking in any kind of worry that he’ll be taken the piss out of it even as they talk on this bus that it warms Zayn’s heart.  


“How about you?”  


“Yeah yeah, I missed you too,” and then just because it feels to him like he didn’t sound like he meant it, Zayn adds, “Like a lot, a whole lot.”  


Liam’s punching him lightly on the arm though and his grin is infectious as he says, “No you doughnut, I meant did you have a good time, back home with the family and Ant and Danny?”  


Zayn cheeks burn up.  


“Oh yeah, yeah, it was brilliant, may have bored Ant and Danny to tears about you and the comic books which are at home by the way but yeah it was brilliant.”  


“Still not got your phone back?”  


“Nope.”  The lie feels easy to say.  


“God that sucks, maybe your dad just wants to make a point about it.”  


Last year his mum had told Zayn that he was a terrible liar so he just keeps it simple, doesn’t say another word and instead just murmurs an, “Mmm.”  


They sit in silence just for a moment, glancing at each other a couple of times before they start giggling.  


They’re as bad as each other.  


It’s only as the bus stops moving and other kids pile off the bus that they realise they’ve arrived at the school gates.  


“Do you know that’s the first time we’ve not listened to music on the way into school?”  


Liam looks like his mind’s just been blown and okay maybe that’s an exaggeration cause after over two weeks apart it’s unsurprising really but it still feels weird and different.  


They walk into school together, oblivious to everyone around them and as Liam walks up the steps to their usual meeting place at dinnertime, there’s a difference in the way he carries himself.  


As he sits down next to Zayn he says, “What?”  


“What do you mean what?”  


“You were smiling at me Zaynie.”  


“Okay well, maybe I should scowl at you instead.”  


Liam starts to giggle and good grief, Zayn’s missed that sound, speaking of sounds, he can’t believe he’s forgotten till now but he opens his bag and pulls out the small HMV bag and places it on Liam’s lap as soon as Liam sits down.  


“What’s this?”  


“Open it and you’ll see.”  


“But Zayn, we already exchanged pressies and it’s your birthday next so what’s this?”  


“Just open it eh?”  


Liam opens the bag and peers inside and pulls out the boxes.  


“Noise cancelling earphones? Zayn?”  


“Mum and Dad bought me a voucher for HMV and said to get some music but you know what I thought of instead was us on that bus with music and how everyone else can hear and I just want it to be us even if they know by now it’ll only ever be Usher and Ne -Yo, it’s just gonna be us in that world.”  


“But, but it’s your birthday.”  


“Exactly, so I choose what I want and that’s what I want.”  


“Us,” Liam repeats, his hands pulling at the packaging and removing one set of earphones and then doing the same with the other package.  


“Us,” Liam repeats one more time.  


“Just us.”  and maybe Zayn likes the sound of that.  


**  


Zayn’s never been one for celebrating his birthday too hard, never been one for making a fuss which is why not being at home suits him in some ways.  


He still gets birthday cards off all his family and friends from back home, still gets a homemade birthday cake courtesy of Aunt Mim and monopolises the phone all day with phone calls from what feels like every single person he knows.  


His birthday falls on a Saturday and Liam’s usually doing a gig on a Saturday so he doesn’t expect to see him but he should know better really.  


Sure enough at half five, the doorbell rings and Uncle Nick calls him and Liam’s there, dressed in a white shirt and black trousers looking for all the world like a waiter, not a singer but Zayn doesn’t care he’s still the best thing in Wolverhampton as he walks to the door.  


Liam’s grinning and doesn’t budge even when Uncle Nick invites him in.  


“It’s okay, Dad’s in the car and we’ve got to get off but I just wanted to wish Zaynie a happy birthday in person and well, give you this.”  


He’s holding a box which is wrapped up in glittery wrapping paper with pictures of Barbie all over it.  


Zayn takes it from him.  


“Nice wrapping paper Li, but you didn’t have to get me anything.”  


“Says the guy who spent his birthday vouchers on something for me.”  


“Yeah well.”  


“It’s not that much but I’ve been saving and even asked for money for Christmas instead of a pressie so I could be sure I could buy it for you and it’s just something that I hope’ll make you feel closer to home and I dunno, oh anyway, open it.”  


Zayn rips open the paper and it falls to the floor.  


When all the paper’s gone and it’s the box and it’s such a Liam thing to buy, so thoughtful and so practical, and Liam, of course, doesn’t have a clue that Zayn could have his own phone here he just chose not to.  


And Liam could have just gone along with it all, been grateful to have Zayn just to himself basically but instead, all Liam ever wants is for Zayn to be okay, to be happy and this is just another example of it.  


“It’s got twenty quid of pre-paid on it and I know you aren’t big on phone calls so it should be enough for loads of texts and it’s not the latest model or anything and it’s not-.”  


Zayn steps forward and puts a hand out to Liam’s right hand which is fidgeting in the air as he talks and it stops Liam.  


“Stop apologising, I love it, you’re so thoughtful Li, you’re amazing babe.”  


“Babe?”  


The surprise on Liam’s face echoes the surprise in Zayn’s own brain and really, he should pretend it was a mistake but if he’s honest and well there’s not a lot of that about with Zayn recently, it absolutely wasn’t so he just repeats it.  


“Yeah babe, now you’re gonna be late so go smash it and maybe I’ll use me first text to find out how it went later.”  


“Well then, you need me number.”  


“Or maybe I’ve memorised it given how many times you’ve asked me to send texts to your mum cause you’ve been too busy scoffing cake that Aunt Mim bakes for you rather than me.”  


“Oh yeah, that’s true, anyway, you’re right I should go but you’ve had a good birthday yeah?”  


“It’s officially the best now Li.”  


Liam beams and then he’s gone and Zayn doesn’t shut the door for a few minutes, just stares after him.  


He’s hook, line and sinker for Liam at the age of fifteen.    


**  


Over the following weeks, life moves on and returns a bit more to the normal of before Christmas.

The bullying of Liam starts to ramp up again but Liam’s more confident now, with his dad’s encouragement and a little bit from Zayn, he even starts boxing again.    


And Zayn can’t ever imagine a time Liam would throw a punch in anger or in a place that wasn’t the boxing ring but just as things started to look like too much for him, things really do start to change.  


And with it so does Liam though he never tells Zayn what changed, the next time they’re on the bus and Collins and Renshaw get on it, the bullies step onto the top deck and Zayn’s glance flicks between Liam and the two lads till Collins looks away and scratches at his neck nervously then Collins says something to Renshaw and they disappear downstairs and that’s how it stays, the next day and the day after and so on.  


Zayn for his part, starts adjusting to life in Wolverhampton, he’s still a proud Bradford lad but he starts to excel in art in a way he hadn’t at home, having his coloured pencils gives him even more scope and it helps that Liam’s his biggest fan.  


He uses the phone Liam had bought him a bit but not as much as he thought, he texts Ant and Danny a couple of times a week and it’s easy banter and then he texts Doni who he assumes tells their mum cause just as he runs out of credit, Aunt Mim will hand him a ten pound note and drive him to the nearest shop to top up the credit on his phone with it.  


The person he texts more often than anyone, first thing in the morning, the last thing at night and all other times between is the one he’s inseparable with.  


If Doni was here then she’d rip him something rotten for the fact that they’re often texting each other till the moment Zayn sits down on the bus next to Liam.  


Zayn hits a purple patch of creativity and the notebook comes out but its the back of the book that he uses like never before and he starts to sing in the shower again and once or twice Aunt Mim even comments on it.    


He’s so conscious that this type of creativity that’s fed with happiness is limited, even at his tender age he’s aware of this because Zayn doesn’t always feel happiness, not like this and he’s aware that with every good moment will always come a bad moment and he’s just waiting to be blindsided.  


It doesn’t happen though and each day gets better and into February, it starts to be days since Liam was last picked on and Zayn feels himself relax into school even more as Liam does.  


Then comes Valentine’s day.  


**  


It falls on a Thursday which means they’ve got a school day to get through and they’ve made no special plans at all anyway.

There’s no label to describe what Liam and Zayn are.    


Zayn’s pretty sure he knows where he stands but when it comes to Liam, it’s different, it’s not complicated but Liam’s had tough times and the last thing Zayn wants to do it is complicate this by making what they have into more than just being best mates.  


They’re just kids still too.    


That doesn’t stop Liam inviting Zayn over for tea the day before.    


It doesn’t stop Doniya sending him annoying texts or Aunt Mim insisting she washes his favourite jacket and best socks the day before.    


And it certainly doesn’t stop the nerves and the sweaty palms as they walk from the bus stop to Liam’s house.    


Within five minutes of setting foot in Liam’s house, he wonders why he was ever worried.  


Karen Payne reminds him of his own mum, warmth, kindness, brightness but with an added portion of ‘Well you aren’t my son so I don’t know all your flaws and I’m gonna spoil you rotten while you’re here’ which Zayn positively basks in.  


All while Liam goodnaturedly grumbles.    


At some point, before Karen serves dinner, Liam steals Zayn to upstairs.    


“Nice bunny curtains Li,” Zayn teases and is unsurprised but pleased beyond all measure when Liam extends his middle finger without hesitation.  


The training is paying off.    


“Your mum’s ace Li.”  


“Yeah, she is and I can tell she thinks the sun shines out of your backside too.”  


Zayn grins.    


“Got good taste then hasn’t she?”  


“Yeah, yeah she does.”  


There’s something about the way Liam says the four words that make Zayn curious but he doesn’t push it.  


Instead, when Liam sits down on his bed, he joins him and then as Liam starts playing Usher, they both lie back, legs dangling off the bed as they sing along in harmony.  


Zayn blames being relaxed on the fact that he let his guard down as Liam sits up as though he’s had an electric shock.  


“Your voice, oh my god Zayn, your voice.”  


Zayn sits up.  


“It’s nothing special.”  


Liam makes a sound that sounds a lot like a ‘pfft’.  


“You kidding me, you’re amazing Zayn, I mean I already knew that but this, wow, you’re extra amazing.”  


Zayn doesn’t even know why he hates the praise cause he knows he’s got a good voice, it’s just that he’s not like Liam and he doesn’t want to stand up in social clubs or do karaoke nights.    


He’s quite happy to have this voice and maybe one day he’ll know what to do with it, just right now he’s got his sights on English and his art and maybe writing a song that’ll make him famous.  


Not standing on a stage in front of twenty or thirty bored out of their minds people and he doesn’t want to say that because that’s what Liam does and it works for Liam and Liam, well Zayn knows Liam will make it, he just has this feeling.  


A feeling that Zayn’s not got about himself right now.    


“Thank you, Liam, and I mean that, it just I dunno.”  


Liam sobers immediately and reaches his hand out for Zayn’s, an instinctive comforting gesture as he squeezes it.  


“Shhh, you don’t have to say anything else, I get it, I get it Zaynie.”  


Zayn doesn’t think Liam does but he appreciates Liam more than he could know right now.  


Liam’s still talking though.  


“Just I feel like I know you better than I know anyone, better than I know me dad and you walked into my life less than three months ago and that’s mental cause now I can’t imagine you not in my life and god we’re still kids but I really like you so am gonna do this and I’m sorry if it’s too much.”  


It’s not too much as Liam leans forward and it’s not even Liam’s lips against Zayn’s, it’s just a small kiss on his cheek and Zayn reaches his hand up to touch the place and it’s not enough.  


Not even halfway near enough.  


And even as he hears Karen call them from downstairs and Liam stands up and his cheeks, never mind his cheeks, his whole face is bright red with embarrassment, Zayn works on instinct.  


Stands up too, pulls Liam closer and says “That wasn’t enough, come on then come on like you mean it.”

This time it is Liam’s lips on his own and Zayn’s feet shift backward with Liam’s momentum and insistence till Zayn’s back is pressed against the wardrobe and it’s only Karen’s voice and feet running up the stairs which cuts them short.  


Has them pulling apart as fast as it happened.  


But it’s more than enough.  A promise of what’s to come and Zayn thinks he could float down the stairs and the way Liam grins back at him as he grabs his hand and tugs him down them has Zayn knowing he feels the same.  


Half an hour later and Zayn wishes the world had ended right there and then in that bedroom with the bunny curtains.  


**  


Zayn gets up extra early the next day though that wasn’t difficult because he hadn’t even slept and he gets the bus that’s half an hour before the usual.

The bottom deck is only half full and he finds a double seat free and sits down in the seat closest to the aisle and stares out the window.  


The message tone on his phone bleeps again and he sighs, reaching into the inside pocket of his coat and pulling out the phone, unsurprised that it’s another text from Liam.  


Which he doesn’t read, instead he just turns off the phone and then opens the zip on his bag and drops it in.  


The morning lessons drag though he makes polite conversation with Tom.  


At dinnertime, he notices how everything around him is dreary, colourless and cold and then it gets even colder or maybe it’s just him being melodramatic because Liam clears his throat and Zayn looks up and it’s like it’s November again.  


Liam’s fidgeting, he looks on the verge of tears and it gets to Zayn for a moment before he pushes it down.  


“I’m sorry Zayn.”  


Zayn says nothing.  


“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew it was definite and then it was definite and it never felt like the right moment.”  


“So you bottled it and got your dad to tell me instead.”  


“That’s not fair, Zayn I thought you’d be happy, and I didn’t tell Dad to tell you anyway, he just blurted it out, I was gonna tell you, I was gonna suggest you could come with me especially when I heard your voice cause it was like a puzzle piece that was missing falling into place or you could apply too, they’d be mad not to take you.”  


“No Liam, and don’t you dare try and make me out to be the bad guy, the arsehole who’s jealous cos you’ve got an X factor audition and I haven’t cause you wanna know the truth Liam, I AM happy for you but you’ve known about this since you came home from Florida and you didn’t tell me, the biggest possible news and you didn’t tell me, why Liam?”  


Liam opens his mouth and then shuts it then finds words.  


“I don’t know.”  


Which aren’t good enough.  


“I thought we told each other everything Li, I thought we were close and you kept this-”  


“Now you’re the one not being fair, I didn’t know you could sing, I don’t know half the stuff, fucking hell you haven’t even told me why you’re in Wolverhampton in the first place or why you won’t go home when Aunt Mim told my mum that your mum and dad said you could stay home with them after Christmas and you were allowed your phone back so if we’re talking about lies then.”  


Liam stops himself, he looks upset but not half as upset as Zayn feels.  


Zayn stands up, looks around him and okay it’s not as dreary as his brain’s telling him it is, and Liam’s the warmth that can make any winter’s day more comforting than a quilt and an armchair but it’s all off-kilter.

And maybe Zayn will look back on today and wonder and regret it but he’s hurting and he’s irrational too and he knows it but he can’t stop himself.  


“Then, it’s time for me to say it was good here while it lasted but it’s time to go home.”  


Liam takes a step forward but then stops himself and almost stumbles as he takes a step further away instead.  


“I’m sorry Zayn, please I’m just.”  


Zayn turns around for a second and picks up his bag and then takes one, then two, then the third step forward till he’s right in front of Liam.  


“Honestly babe, there’s no need to be sorry, we owe each other nothing and it’s best to know now and I’ll give you your phone back, I’ll give it to Aunt Mim and then.”  


Liam’s shaking his head and murmuring, “No, please Zaynie, keep it, please stay,” as tears fall down his cheeks,  


It would be the easiest thing in the world for Zayn to take Liam in his arms and say they both overreacted and he’ll be there on audition day to support him but something’s telling him not to.  


And he wants to curse the something but instead, he just squeezes Liam’s hand and Liam tries to hold on but then releases him and Zayn’s walking down the steps and walking out the main entrance and he’ll get into trouble for that probably but he can’t turn around and can’t let Liam see him wipe away his own tears.  


Can’t turn around because if he does, he doubts he’ll ever leave.  


**  


Bradford is cold and dreary even in the Spring, even as Spring turns into Summer.

But it’s home and Zayn adjusts back to it, he’s glad to be using his phone again, deletes Ne- Yo and Usher off his phone, gives the CDs to Danny, adds Let me love you by Mario to it instead and pretends Wolverhampton never happened.  


Which would be easy except for how he hears his mum talking on the phone to Aunt Mim and hears the words ‘X-factor and that’s brilliant’ too often.  


There’s this part of him that longs to turn on the phone Liam bought him which sits in the bag in his wardrobe and text Liam, to congratulate him and let bygones be bygones.  


Zayn’s fifteen though and rational thought and teenagers don’t go hand in hand and though distance and talking it over with Doni and his mates has made him realise he and Liam both overreacted and bloody hell he knew that the moments the word tumbled from his lips that February day, he still can’t bring himself to do anything other than use that period of time for now as a way of channelling his art and his writing.  


And he does pretty damn well he thinks although the stuff he’d written in March which he’d read last week makes Joy Division music seem like carnival music.  


It’s almost time to go back to school and he’s almost relieved to have the distraction back and to get back to English and Art and how familiar his old school was the moment he walked back into it in February when curiosity and some kind of instinct from who knows where has him opening the wardrobe reaching into the bag he’s not touched since he got home.  


The phone’s out of battery so he has to charge it but a few hours later, the light turns green and he turns on the phone removing the charger from the wall and tossing it back into the bag.  


This is a one time only thing he promises himself.    


The message alerts start within thirty seconds of the phone being turned on and he goes into the texts straight away.  


There’s a couple of unread texts from Doni from back in February but then the only other texts are from Liam.  


Just, which is a relative use of the word cos ‘Just?’, forty-six texts from Liam and Zayn can’t bring himself to scroll too far up.  


And the truth is, his attention is taken up instead by a text from yesterday which was the first text since May.  


The one in May?  


**Miss u. Xx**  


The one yesterday?  


**Sorry.  2 yung 4 everythin. X**  


Zayn frowns at the message, doesn’t even understand it, has this urge to find out what it means but he’d promised himself and so he opens the bottom drawer of his bedside table and chucks the phone in there.  


It takes a superhuman effort, willpower like Zayn’s never known in his short life so far to not phone or text him back.  


Zayn forgets the text within a week or two, or that’s what he tells himself.  


It’s early October and Zayn’s out at Ant and Danny’s when he gets a text from Doniya.  


**Omg poor liam , got sent home cuz he was 2 yung.**  


Zayn makes his excuses and gets home within an hour and goes up to his room and pulls the phone from his bottom drawer.  


As he turns it on and sees the text, he’s so close to phoning him, texting him, bloody hell getting on a train and being with him.  


He doesn’t though.  He does none of those things, he just shuts it out, puts the phone back in the drawer and he never watches it. Never watches Liam’s journey.  


Not for a while anyway.  


He carries on with school work, carries on with living a life.    


Somewhere along the line he starts singing in the shower, sings songs that he and Liam would listen to, sings Mario at the top of his voice so loud at night that Wali and Safaa bang on the walls and tell him to shut up while his dad quietly encourages him not to, and one day he sheepishly asks for the CDs back from Danny.  


One day he applies for X factor and there’s part of him that wants to text Liam to tell him but he doesn’t and when he doesn’t see it through, he’s glad.  


It’s June when he’s sat in the front room at Aunt Sarwat’s, his cousin Jawaad next to him when Sarwat starts to scroll through the tv shows she’s recorded on Sky.  


Zayn’s not stupid, he sees how her fingers slow as X-factor appears on the list and then how she suddenly stands up, announces she needs to go to the loo and calls Jawaad to come with her.  


“To the toilet?  Mum?” Jawaad whines.  


Sarwat’s head appears around the door and she jerks it and Zayn can’t help but smile as the penny clearly drops and Jawaad excuses himself.  


Leaving just Zayn and the certainty that he’s gonna look.    


It’s just one episode, Judges Houses. Barbados no less for Liam.    


There’s a cheesy sketch about Liam and the other lads in Baywatch and then there’s Liam singing, some Take That song and that song that his mum used to be obsessed with by Enrique Iglesias and in between there are little moments of Liam wearing a weird outfit that looks like he got dressed in the dark at Boot camp and he finds himself pausing the recording and rewinding it.  


Zayn’s got this gigantic grin on his face that he can’t shift and he’s not even bothered that he has.  


Before he plays it again and it's the next day or at least Liam’s in different clothes and Liam looks so young, different from before, vulnerable and though Zayn knows what’s coming, it’s still like someone’s knocked the air from him.  


He stops it there when Simon says no.  Doesn’t need to look, doesn’t need to wonder, knows exactly what Liam’s faced since then without even talking to him.  


When he’s home the next day, he types fifty versions of a text before he deletes each one.  


He lost the chance to have a part in Liam’s life when he wasn’t there last year.  Time to put it to bed.  


He dreams of Liam each night for two weeks.    


The rest of 2009 passes in a blur and 2010 and his seventeenth birthday comes and goes, in truth, he spends it all trying not to remember his fifteenth.  


Then one day, a letter falls through the letterbox addressed to him and he opens it and it’s an invite to auditions and he walks through from the hall to the kitchen and drops it onto the counter next to his mum.  


“Mum?”  


She turns to face him and grins sheepishly at him but then sets the wooden spoon she’s holding onto the counter and takes her son’s hands in her own.  


“Your voice deserves to be heard and Liam was right and so’s your dad and I dunno, I just have this feeling that if you don’t try it this time you never will and if you do it I’ve also got this feeling you won’t regret it and as long as you take your chances even if it’s not right for you, well you’ve still tried it and that’s more than most.”  


“I dunno mum, maybe I should just focus on English and let go.”  


She’s shaking her head.  


“The time to say that Zayn is when you’ve given it a go, and no one’s forcing you, least of all me love, but I don’t want you to look back on today in twenty years time and say to me how you’ve always wondered what would have happened if?”  


“Why are you so wise mum?” Zayn pulls his hands away from his mum’s and then pulls her into a hug.  


“Cause I’m your mum, my beautiful boy, and while we’re on questions, why are you getting taller than me all of a sudden?”  


So I can pick you up and put you in my pocket whenever I get stressed he thinks to himself but doesn’t say out loud.  


Instead, he squeezes one last time then lets go and then as he goes to the tap and fills a glass he gets from a cupboard full of water and takes a sip for a minute or maybe two, he turns around and says.  


“Okay, I’ll give it a go.”  


**  


It’s really easier said than done, and Zayn wants to throw up multiple times in the days beforehand.  


He doesn’t tell anyone he’s going, not Ant or Danny and he forbids his mum from telling anyone beyond his Dad and Doni because Safaa and Wali would be too excited and so would everyone except he’s pretty sure that she’s told nearly everyone and just told them not to breathe a word of them knowing to Zayn.  


His mum and dad dropped him off a few hours back and they’ll pick him up later, his sisters are at home in Bradford with Aunt Zileh.  


He wants a cigarette and a smoke like he’s never wanted one before but instead, he fiddles with the zip of his anorak.  


It’s not even as though today is the proper big meeting Simon Cowell and the rest of the judges auditions.  


It’s in a pokey studio in the middle of an industrial estate with the nearest food place being a McDonalds that looks like it’s seen better days.  


He can’t help his anxiety though but he fights through it and makes it through somehow and he reckons it’s okay to admit to himself that he did good and that the smiles on the people’s faces were genuine not forced.    


It’s not anxiety that makes him want to throw up now, it’s relief and his legs and hands are shaking from how he’s made it through though whether he’s actually made it through to the next stage is anyone’s guess.  


He texts his mum and dodges all the questions he knows she’ll ask over and over again on the journey home anyway and checks in his coat pocket and finds a five-pound note and decides to get some food before he goes and waits for his mum and dad to collect him.  


About twenty minutes away, there are more food places but he doesn’t trust himself to not get lost or maybe even die of starvation along the way.  


He’s allowed to be melodramatic okay?  He just did something he never thought he’d do.  


Anyway, the point still stands, he needs food and quick food so he finds himself walking through the doors of McDonalds and stares up at the menu though he knows full well it’s the same as back home.  


He’s picking up the tray with one hand and then picking up a stray chip with his other when the door opens and he hears the voice before he sees the face and it’s a miracle he doesn’t drop the tray.  


It’s a close run thing though and he freezes in place.  


And curses to his stupid brain and his stupid mouth and his stupid tongue and his stupid voice.  


“Leeyum?”  


Zayn used to think that people could only ever show about two or three emotions on their faces but looking at Liam now he realises he was way wide of the mark as Liam’s face changes from delight to anger to denial to smile to happiness to confusion and about a million other emotions and reactions Zayn can’t even name.  


“Zayn?”  


They stare at each other for too long, Zayn sees the Batman t-shirt Liam’s wearing and Zayn hopes Liam takes in the Green Lantern one he’s wearing too and memories are conjured up for a second and Zayn’s glad they aren’t too old yet  


In all of this, one second would probably be too long and it’s only when someone coughs and Zayn realises Liam’s not alone that he looks at the young lad stood next to him.  


“You’re Zayn?  Only heard about you about twelve times already today, thought you were an urban legend almost, Hi, I’m Aiden.”  


Aiden leans forward to shake Zayn’s hand but Zayn’s hand that holds the chip is hovering in mid-air and so Aiden drops his and glances from Zayn to Liam and then back again.  


“Okay then, I’m gonna get a drink and a Big Mac, you want anything Liam? No, didn’t think so could rob you blind right now and you wouldn’t blink, see told you,, talking to yourself again Aiden me old mate, back in a minute.”  


It’s just them though of course, it’s not, the restaurant was full when Zayn had ordered just a few minutes ago.  


But it may as well be just them.  


Zayn could speak first but he doesn’t, he waits because whatever this is, it’s up to Liam to set the tone.  


Zayn takes in every continued change to Liam’s expressions till Liam simply smiles and says.  


“I’m so glad you’re here, cause your voice is….,” he tails off and that’s when a different expression takes over his face.  


It almost hurts to look because Liam’s expression isn’t anger, it’s not hurt, it’s just sad and a bit lost.  


“I needed you when they sent me home, I kind of figured that despite everything you’d be there.”  


Zayn opens his mouth to speak but Liam’s holding up his hand and carries on talking.  


“Then I got home, and I started thinking back over everything and god Zayn you were in a tough place too and I should have trusted you and I had no right to text you when I did and I needed to get through all that on my own.”  


“Bet school was rough?”  


Liam’s wry smile says it all.  


“Character building I hear they call it or at least that’s what Dad says, anyway how’s Bradford?”  


“Good, cold and grimy but home and nice.”  


Liam’s smile changes from wry to warm and a March day never felt like this before.  


“I should let you have your food before it goes stone cold, and I’m not saying that we can go back to how it was before and maybe you don’t want to anyway and maybe I don’t really cause it’s two years Zayn and a lot’s changed but let me say this one day in class we had this supply teacher and it was meant to be a bloomin’ maths lesson but she was nice and she started talking about fate and how she met her partner and how it’s the smallest thing that can change your fate, destiny like and there’s this thing called the red string of fate,and I dunno, I think you’d get it and yeah, I guess I’m glad I’ve seen you and even if this is it, then thank you.”  


He turns away then and walks towards where Aiden’s at the front of the queue and ordering food now and Zayn doesn’t trust himself to speak but somehow he manages it, thinks if he doesn’t he never will.  


“Your number still the same, babe?”  


When Liam turns around, that’s when Zayn sees the real change and Liam’s smile turns from warm to brilliant, confident and happy and he chews on his bottom lip and nods.  


And it’s a minute step forward but Zayn feels like it’s the most important leap of all.  


**  


It’s a Friday in the middle of Summer and in the words of Ronan Keating, Zayn’s learning that life really is a rollercoaster.  


He’d just been in the middle of a phone call on the tattered old Nokia Liam had bought for him over two years ago trying to focus on how on earth he’d ever tell them while keeping an eye out for him just in case.  


Then he’d seen him and wanted to wrap his arms around him and promise him that it’d be okay.  


Now though?  


Well now he’s on stage again, just him and four other lads, and then four girls on the other side of the stage and Cowell and the others are staring at them and there are tv cameras in their faces and Zayn hasn’t got the foggiest clue what’s going on.  


Till Nicole starts talking and Zayn’s mind starts racing and they’re given a choice except is there really a choice?  When they’ve come this far?  


He looks at each of these lads, total strangers by and large tho the blond lad’s more familiar and feels them do the same and then his gaze rests on Liam’s and he’s afraid for a moment that Liam will say no and he’s afraid too that maybe it’s not what he wants himself.  


But then Liam catches his eye and no one knows except them how many nights they’ve stayed up talking since March, how Liam truly knows Zayn now and it’s he same for Zayn and not just that,  Zayn knows all about the red thread of fate now too and how Zayn thinks, no, how he _knows_ there’s something in it and not even they know whether this is it but it’s a twist in fortune in a blink of an eye and they’re young enough to try and young enough to keep trying if it fails.  


So when Liam’s lips curve upwards and when the other three lads have these scared but excited looks on their faces before they hug each other and they’re unfamiliar now but Zayn’s got this feeling.  


That this little thread is lengthening and wrapping its way around all five of them and it’s not just him and Liam anymore.  


Not just You and I alone.  


Whatever he and Liam is or become, whatever fate has in store for them, it’s not served them too bad so far.  


End file.
